Splash
by what the face
Summary: Noah Puckerman never thought that he would fall in love with anyone; much less, a mermaid. / T for language and sexual references only / High school rom-com
1. Chapter 1

_"Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it._  
><em>Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it.<em>  
><em>Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."<em>  
>- Martin Luther King<p>

* * *

><p>If you asked Noah Puckerman how he'd successfully obtained the librarian's lacy underwear that one time in his sophomore year, he would reply that it was simple<em>; chemistry.<em>

If you asked Noah Puckerman how he'd managed to dangle Jacob Ben Israel by his suspenders on the school's flagpole, he'd tell you that a badass couldn't reveal his secrets.

However, if you asked him how he'd ended up shirtless, bleary eyed and stranded on an unknown beach with seaweed in his crotch, he would be absolutely speechless.

And that was exactly what he was now. For the second time in his life – the first being when he was a baby and he hadn't known how to talk yet – Noah Elijah Puckerman couldn't think of a damned thing to say.

Blinking the sand from his eyes, Puck groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight as he stared out at the unflinching ocean, its rolling waves now calm and almost blissful. Hours ago – well, he _assumed_ it to be hours ago – they'd been unforgiving, pulling him under their grey clutches, forcing his lungs to struggle for air.

His head throbbed. Leaning to one side, he winced as water leaked from his ear canal. The afternoon sunlight was hot on his back. It warmed him, stopped him from shivering on the sandy surface. As he moved to sit cross-legged, he noticed the leg-rope still tight around his ankle. It had snapped in his struggle against the current. "_Damn_ it," he couldn't help but choke out. His new surfboard had been his seventeenth birthday present. His ma was going to kill him.

As Puck furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the severed leg-rope, trying to remember the exact order of events, his mind flowed with images. There were those that he remembered easily; Finn and Santana, his best friend and his current girlfriend, had been mucking about on the shoreline. He'd been jealous, he recalled. Finn's easy flirtation with Santana just wasn't kosher. There were the images of the ocean; at first warm and inviting, and finally, cold and terrifying. The sky had darkened first, and then the ocean had almost trembled. For a moment, his eyes had connected with Santana's. Then he'd been pulled under.

The other images were blurry. Fantasy or fact, he wasn't exactly sure. He had known that he was drowning. His lungs had felt like lead weights. No matter how hard he had tried to swim, he had felt like his legs were floating there without any real purpose. He had given up.

Then, just as his eyes had fluttered closed, he had felt the strangest thing. Scales; not rough, but smooth, against his leg. If he hadn't been so tired, he might have screamed. He'd been able to open his eyes in the slightest, only to glance at those shiny blue scales, shining bright right in front of his eyes.

They'd disappeared.

Again, he'd felt something brush against his arm. This time, however, it did not feel foreign in texture. Human hands wrapped around his biceps – smalls hands, warm hands – and pulled him upwards. He should have been afraid. He should have been terrified. Yet, somehow, the touch of the hands had soothed him.

From then on, he could remember nothing. He didn't recognise any of the land surrounding him; not the sandy shore or the wooden steps leading up to a pathway covered by overgrown shrubbery. He was well and truly fucked.

Sighing, Puck slowly pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled slightly before righting himself, a hand automatically flying up to rest on his forehead. He was going to have to find some sort of pay phone. Moving slowly, as if he were afraid that we would fall, he began to make his way towards the wooden steps. Whilst he was doing so, he noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. A girl.

His chest tightened. "Hey!" He found himself yelling, suddenly running toward the girl currently trying to get up the stairs. She was stumbling, her footing unsteady. "Hey you! Stop!"

The girl ahead of him looked back, her eyes wide and her mouth ajar. Upon noticing him advancing toward her, she began to move faster. There was something about her that forced Puck to hurtle up the stairs and catch her by surprise.

As his fingers curled around her wrist, Puck felt a shock of electricity run up and down his arm. It was her. The hand that had pulled him up and out of the water; to safety. Somehow he just knew. She looked back at him, her face weary. She tried to gently pull away and he complied. However, when their hands dropped back down to their sides, she continued to stare down at him from the step above. He didn't move away. "You… saved me," he whispered.

The girl wasn't traditionally beautiful. However, there was a certain life and energy in her step that drew him to her in the strangest of ways. She had deep, haunting brown eyes and long, wavy brown hair. Her skin was olive and dotted with small, almost invisible sun-spots on her arms and legs. She held a white sheet around her body, her knuckles white and her knees shaking slightly.

Puck coughed awkwardly. "Thanks."

The girl didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded and began to make her way up the steps once more.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, hurrying after her. They scurried over the overgrown plants, all the while breathing in the salty, sandy air surrounding them. The girl moved with a gracefulness that Puck had never seen before. He was entranced; not himself. Noah Puckerman didn't think of _girls_ like this. They were _meat. _"Wait!"

He chased her. It didn't take long to catch her again; although she seemed to be getting better at it, she still wasn't very adept at moving without uncertainty. They darted back and forth; like they were playing a children's game. Every once in a while, the balance of power would change. Puck would be winning, and then she would be. Eventually, he managed to corner her against a tree.

She was smiling slightly, a light blush on her cheeks as she looked up at him. He ran a hand through his 'hawk and looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say. What did you say to the girl who just saved you from almost certain death? _Thanks, I'll see you around sometime, babe?_

"What's your name?" He settled for.

She wrinkled her brow and gave him a confused look. He repeated himself, though his question only produced the same reaction. Puck frowned. "You speak English, right?"

The girl just smiled at him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Right. Well, I'll… I'll take you home, 'kay?" Turning his head, he surveyed the area. They were situated at the top of a cliff, just next to a road. Houses lined the opposite side, flanked with white picket fences and rose gardens. Luckily, Puck recognised the area. He hadn't washed up too far from the beach that he, Santana and Finn had begun their afternoon at.

He looked back at the mysterious brunette, gestured for her to follow him across the road. She walked forwards slowly, though not as if she were afraid.

At this moment a car drove past, startling her. She squealed; in excitement or fear Puck wasn't sure. She backed away, pressed her back against the tree once more. Puck resisted the urge to groan. "You've never seen a car before?" He asked her. She shook her head. _That, at least, _he found himself thinking, _is a step._

"Come on."

After some more encouragement on Puck's part, the girl followed him across the road. They walked a few hundred metres, down a hill and further into the mainland, away from the beach. He noticed that the further they got from the ocean, the more distressed the girl became. She cast worried glances back toward the coastline every few seconds. _Fuckin' weird. _

They reached the bottom of the hill. Puck paused, sighed as she stared at a nearby seagull as if she knew the creature. Amazingly, she knelt down beside it and stroked its feathers. Puck couldn't believe his eyes. "I-I wouldn't touch those if I were you," he spat out, unsure what else to say, "They're covered in germs and shit."

She beamed at him; her eyes filled with laughter.

His own eyes wide and confused, Puck exhaled deeply. "So, this is how it goes… Thanks for, you know, saving my life or whatever…" He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. The white sheet draped around her body had slipped slightly, revealing the top of an olive-skinned breast. He felt like he should look away for some reason that he couldn't really explain. Something about… _respect._ "But I need you to tell me where you live so that I can walk you there…"

The girl pressed a light kiss to the forehead of the seagull, which hadn't moved an inch since she had started petting it. Puck raised his eyebrows. "Or, uh… well, I guess you should borrow some clothes first."

He gently grabbed her arm and led her away from the seagull, who squawked at him. _The seagull's _pissed _at me? _It really was a strange day.

They reached his house. An empty police vehicle was parked out the front. Puck gulped and looked back at the girl. Realising how hard it would be to explain her presence, he pulled her away from the front of the house and down the side of it, through a wooden gate and toward his bedroom window. He peered inside, checking that his family weren't in there.

"Alright, then. You wait here, 'kay? I'll be back in five minutes to open the window and let you in," he told her firmly once he was assured that the coast was clear. She didn't respond. Instead, she stared, enraptured by the water tap attached to the side of his house. Her arm stretched out for it. Sensing what she was going to do, he quickly blocked her hand and got her to look him in the eyes. "Don't _do_ anything, don't_ touch_ anything, don't _go_ anywhere... Got it?"

Slowly, she nodded once more.

Shaking his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look as composed as he possibly could. _Surfing accident? No big deal for the Puckerone. He did shit like that every day. _

Upon opening the front door, his mother screamed and pulled him in for a hug, crushing him in her fragile arms. "Noah…" she whispered. Her breath was familiar and comforting against his neck. His little sister, Sarah, enveloped her tiny arms around his legs. "We thought that something terrible had happened."

His ma released him from her iron grip, though Sarah remained attached to her older brother. "Well, I'm fine," he told them, suddenly anxious that the mysterious girl had already ran away. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do if she had. He turned to face the two police officers standing a few metres away from the family of three. "Aren't I, officers?"

"Seems so," muttered one of them, eying him with distaste. Puck couldn't say he liked the guy either. They'd been the officers who had arrested him after stealing an ATM and driving off with it attached to his truck. It hadn't been a good day. "Still, we'd like to ask you some questions-"

"Can it wait?" Puck interrupted brusquely, ruffling Sarah's hair as he gently untangled her arms from around his legs. He made an attempt to move past his mother and further down the hallway, though one glare from the woman who had raised him stopped him in his tracks. "I just got back from a near death experience."

"You don't seem like it," one of the policemen muttered, his eyes narrowed.

"Adrenaline," Puck replied, shrugging. This time, when he tried to move past his mother, she only sighed, slightly disappointed that he hadn't really changed following his brief stint in juvenile detention. She had thought that he would have learnt his lesson.

"Santana called," she told him sternly. "You should get back to her immediately, Noah."

He wasn't really listening as he hurried down the hallway. "Yeah, I will!" He called over his shoulder; a hand raised in a gesture that could almost be described as dismissive. He left his mother and sister with the two middle-aged cops, who they presumably let outside.

Puck reached his bedroom and slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. He rushed over to the window and peered out. At first, he didn't see her. Panic filled him and for a moment he was considering running back to the beach to find her. The connection he felt to the girl was strange. He'd never felt anything like that before.

Unexpectedly, her head popped up out of nowhere. Puck, at first shocked at her sudden appearance, collected himself and grimaced at her. "So, you _actually_ listened to me this time..."

She beamed.

Letting her inside through the window, he watched, transfixed, as she stared at the photographs of himself and his friends. There were photos from parties, from football matches, and even from Junior Prom. He couldn't help but notice as her face fell slightly upon noticing the photograph of him and Santana wrapped in an intimate hug.

"Oh. You need clothes," he mumbled under his breath. He flung open his closet door and searched for something that seemed alright for her to wear. Tossing aside anything that seemed too smelly or too large, he ended up handing her a black t-shirt and a pair of cotton boxer shorts. He realised that that was slightly creepy, but he really couldn't think of anything else to give her. His pants would _swamp_ her tiny frame.

She stared at the clothes, unsure of what to do with them.

"You put them on," he attempted to explain. "It's simple. You just… _you know_, pull the shirt down over your head and the shorts up and over your legs."

The girl, although still slightly confused, nodded mutely. He began to make his way out of the room so that she could change.

"Thank you, Noah."

He stopped, frozen, at the sound of her voice. It was stilted, like she was still insecure when using words. Still, it was English all the same. Puck said the only thing he could think of saying; "My name isn't Noah… Well, it_ is_, but… people call me Puck now."

She shook her head shyly. "Noah."

"Puck," he said again.

She laughed. Her whole face was alight. "Noah!"

"Seriously," he affirmed, "It's Puck."

"Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, No-"

He ran across the room and pressed his hand against her mouth to stop her from chanting his name. "Shut up," he hissed, though not too harshly, "Ma will hear you."

"Noah?"

Puck froze again, though not at the sound of the girl's voice. Instead, it was his mother that he had heard. He could hear her footfalls echoing in the hallway beyond. _Fuck, _he thought, hastily dropping his hand from the girl's mouth and leading her over to the curtains. He pushed her gently behind them and covered her with the fabric as best as he possibly could. She giggled. He rolled his eyes.

"You have to be quiet," he warned her. "She can't know that you're here."

Puck didn't know how to explain the presence of a practically naked girl who could barely speak English in his room – _especially _when he had a girlfriend. Besides, the girl would be gone soon. He wouldn't have to explain anything at all as long as she remained quiet.

His bedroom door opened slowly. Mrs. Puckerman poked her head inside, her face wrinkled with suspicion. "What's going on, Noah?"

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly. Hastily realising this, he tried to relax himself. "Why?"

"I heard… someone," she replied, narrowing her eyes. They darted about his room, looking for any sign of trouble. They lingered on the curtains for a while, and Puck was sure that she had seen the tiny olive feet sticking out from underneath the blue fabric. However, she soon looked away, instead focusing her attentions on her only son. "Never mind. I must be getting old," she muttered. With that, she shut the door behind her.

Puck exhaled, relieved. The girl jumped out from behind the curtains, still holding his clothes. "Okay. That was good. Now, I'll get out of here and you can change."

He left her to figure out how to dress herself for a good ten minutes. Upon his return, he found her jumping up and down on his bed. "Are you _trying_ to get me grounded?" He hissed, pulling her down from the mattress. She laughed and poked him in the ribs, much to his annoyance. "Just stop! For _one_ second!"

She stared at him blankly.

"I gotta take you home now. So, where's it gonna be?"

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at him again. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on. _Where do you live_?"

She paused. Her eyes flickered across his face and landed on the far wall; which was covered in surfing posters. She walked over to one and pointed at a giant, blue wave. Puck had to fight back a wince as he thought about his earlier experience. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he stared at her, unsurprised.

"You live… _in the ocean?"_ He questioned sarcastically.

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah… right. You're crazier than I thought you were," he uttered almost sadly, running a hand through his hair. Sighing, he realised what he was going to have to do. "Alright. You'll have to stay here then. Until tomorrow, at least, when I can figure out what I'm going to do with you."

"Noah," she said again, smiling. He noticed, absentmindedly, that she had put his shirt on inside-out. _Well, what did you expect? _His conscience reminded him.

"I told you. _Puck," _he replied. He automatically began peeling the bed sheets backwards on his single bed. He took the top-most layer and placed it on the floor. Tonight, he would not sleep well. But he had known that anyway. Who slept well following their _almost death?_ "You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll take the floor."

He went out into the living room and pinched a cushion from off of the sofa. Returning and placing it gently on the sheet he'd prepared for himself, he noticed that the girl had already made herself comfortable in his bed. It was only five o'clock. Yet, he understood her fatigue. His muscles were screaming out for a rest.

He locked his bedroom door and settled into his own makeshift divan, allowing himself to relax. Today, he should have died. In actuality, he had been saved by a mysterious girl; the girl who rested just above and to his left. That warranted an extra four or five hours sleep.

As he let his eyes fall closed, he listened to the sound of her breathing. In the tender rhythm he could discern the calm rise and fall of breaking waves, and the undertone of a beautiful, melodious singing voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Puck was awoken by the sound of his ma knocking on his bedroom door. Still feeling slightly groggy, he quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Noah! Bubbala! Why is your door locked?"

There it was again; the suspicion in her voice that he had come to know so well. _But why would she be suspicious? He hadn't done shit! _Suddenly, he realised that he was on the floor. _The fuck…? _

His eyes flickered up to rest on the sleeping girl buried in the sheets of his bed. Now panicking as his mother continued to question him through the wooden door, he hastily stood up and ignored how the room spun following his sudden movements. Something was scratching at his ankle. His... _leg-rope?_ In the confusion of the day previous he'd forgotten to remove it – or to remove any of the sand currently wedged in unsightly places. Ignoring the chafing, he quickly gathered the sheet that he had been sleeping on and roughly tossed it on top of the mysterious girl. He covered her with it as best as he could. Praying that she wouldn't move or make a sound in her sleep, he crossed the room to unlock his bedroom door.

His ma immediately pushed it open, again looking suspiciously around the room. Noticing the mess that his bed currently was, she sighed, frustrated. "_How?" _She asked him, her voice incredulous.

Puck shrugged. "I- I didn't sleep well after yesterday."

Her face fell. "I'm sorry, Bubbala," she whispered, pulling him in for a hug. After a few moments, she released him from her grip and gestured for him to bend down. She pressed a kiss to his forehead like she had done when he was younger. "No more surfing for a while, okay?" She told him.

He nodded. After yesterday, he wasn't exactly sure whether or not he wanted to surf_ ever again. _But, he hadn't bothered himself by thinking about it. He was just worried about what he was going to do with the girl who had saved him. He couldn't turn her loose on her world – she had given him his life back! He would have to find somewhere safe for her to go, and even if that safe place was his bed room, then that would have to do.

"Oh my," his ma said gravely, noticing the sand in his hair and on his unwashed clothes. "Noah! You didn't even shower!"

He rolled his eyes. "I nearly _drowned, _ma."

"Regardless, that is no excuse for lack of personal hygiene," she chastised. "Get in the shower. You're going to school."

Puck gaped. He hadn't been expecting _that_ one. "School? You can't be serious!"

"I _am_," she told him, her mouth in a hard line. "I spoke to Officer Farnsworth last night about your lack of morals. Your education is important, Noah. He _won't_ stand for any more truancy."

"Can't guarantee that I'll pass, though," he muttered. "Guy's a prick, ma. I can't believe that you're listenin' to him."

"I'm just doing the right thing by you," she countered. "One day, in the future, you'll thank me for it. Now, get your clothes and get in the shower. You're covered in sand!"

He watched, crestfallen, as she shut the door behind her. When she was out of earshot, he swore loudly. _School? The day after he had nearly drowned? Bullshit._ Turning to look at the still sleeping girl, he wondered what he was going to do. He couldn't exactly bring her to _school _with him. She would have to stay in his room for the day.

Gathering his clothes and heading for the shower, he made a mental checklist of what the girl would need. Food was a given. Oh, and water. Something to keep her occupied?_ Television. Yeah. That would do. _

He washed the grime from his skin, unattached the leg-rope and tossed it to the far corner of the shower. He didn't want to look at it. Even the feeling of the water on his back sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of how he'd felt down in the depths of the ocean. He had accepted his death. He had acknowledged that he'd never see his family or friends again. _Here lies Noah Puckerman… a son, a brother, a… a what else?_ That was all that he was, wasn't it?

His switched the water off and dried himself before dressing for school in a simple white t-shirt and jeans. He left the severed leg-rope in the shower, unable to even pick it up to throw it in the trash.

Sneaking past Sarah, who was currently watching children's cartoons in the living room, he made his way into the kitchen and filled up a bottle of water. In the pantry, he grabbed whatever food he could get his hands on before quickly making his way out of the kitchen lest his mother grow even _more_ doubtful of his behaviour.

When he returned to his room, the girl was still sound asleep. Placing the food and water down by the bed, he considered leaving her that way. Deciding against it, he gently pulled the crumpled sheets off of her and sat on the edge of the mattress.

Her face was serene. Her eyes were shut, her long eyelashes gently resting against her cheeks. She breathed quietly – not loudly, like he did when he was asleep. The corners of her mouth were raised upwards in a sort of smile, her hair spread around her head like a halo. Puck allowed himself a moment to stare at her.

He didn't usually find girls beautiful – but that was what this girl was. She was something too pure, too_ innocent_ to be just plain old _hot. _Shaking his head to get rid of these strange thoughts, he found himself reaching out to gently push a stray strand of hair back from her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open at his touch, a sleepy smile taking over her face. She blinked up at him; once, twice, three times. They stared at one another in silent awe. _Who was she, this girl who had so selflessly pulled him from the stormy sea? How had she managed it?_

He was struck by surprise when one of her hands suddenly caressed his cheek. He didn't dare move away – for the moment, he was completely under her spell. Her fingertips traced his cheekbones before they travelled to brush against his eyelashes, then to trace placid circles around his eyes. They scraped against the light stubble along his jaw, then moved to lightly touch his lips.

He pulled away from her then. "Uh," he croaked. His voice was suddenly hoarse. Coughing uneasily, he ran a hand through his 'hawk and stood up from the bed. She sat up without removing her eyes from his. He looked away and down at the food that he had brought her. A box of… _Fruit Loops_? Well, it would have to do. "I need to go to school today, so you'll have to stay here on your own for a few hours. So, I, err, I brought you some food."

Ignoring the blank look that she gave him, he handed her the box of cereal and left the water bottle at the side of the bed, in plain view. He marched over to his television and turned it on before tossing the remote to her. "So, you can watch TV and I'll go, and then I'll be back and we'll figure out what to do, 'kay?"

She wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was transfixed by the moving images on the screen before her. She moved slowly toward it, raised her hand on the glass surface and flinched away from it when it made a loud noise. She looked back at him, afraid.

"It can't hurt you," he tried to reassure her.

"Noah! Come on! You have to go or you'll be late!" He heard his mother call from elsewhere in the house.

Sighing, he reached for his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. Breakfast was not going to happen today. "Don't leave this room, alright?" He told the girl sternly before shutting the bedroom door behind him.

At school he was greeted with a series of different reactions. Some of his friends were sad, though others were excited to hear what had happened to him. Of course, he brushed off any indication of fear and pretended that he'd enjoyed the dangerous experience. He _was _a badass, after all.

Santana eventually caught up with him at lunchtime. "Why the _fuck _didn't you call me?" She demanded to know upon cornering him against his locker.

He sighed as he shoved a text book back into his locker. "I was a little pre-occupied," he told her truthfully.

"Too pre-occupied to tell your fucking _girlfriend_ that you're alive?"

Kurt Hummel, or Lance Bass, as Puck liked to call him, eyed their exchange with distaste from across the hall. Puck sent him a ferocious glare, sending him scurrying away in fear.

"I'm _sorry,_ 'kay?" He hissed, suddenly inexplicably annoyed at his girlfriend's appearance. In all honesty, Puck had never really felt anything more than sexual attraction toward Santana Lopez. He was sure that it had been the same for her, once. However, their relationship had turned into something more for her. He was like a possession. To control Noah Puckerman was to let everyone know that you couldn't be messed with.

Puck _hated _that she thought that.

She narrowed her eyes at him before walking away without saying another word. Even if he was pissed at her, he couldn't help but watch appreciatively as her cheerleading skirt swayed from side to side.

The school day, ultimately, wasn't so bad. He found that he couldn't concentrate on any of his work because he was too_ fucking_ worried about the mysterious girl holed up in his bedroom. Surely, his ma hadn't seen her before she'd left for work! She would have called him to yell at him, right?

When the bell rang, signalling the end of the day, he rushed to his truck and drove home as quickly as he possibly could_. _He burst through the front door and rushed to his bedroom.

He was relieved to see her sitting still, still staring at the television. She hadn't touched the _Fruit Loops_, he noticed. Instead, it seemed that she had hardly moved at all, all day. Throwing his backpack onto the floor once more, he moved to switch the screen off. She tore her eyes away from the device, her face only slightly annoyed.

"Noah," she said warningly.

He tried not to roll his eyes. He_ really_ did. "It's Puck."

"Why would you turn the magic box off? I was perfectly happy watching it until you came in here and spoiled everything!"

_The… magic box? _He blanched. "You _talk_ now?"

"Of _course,"_ she replied smugly. "Now, put _The Voice _back on, please."

"You… _you_… so, you just, like,_ decided_ not to speak to me this whole time?" He asked her, growing annoyed. "Why would you _do _that?"

"No, silly!" She exclaimed, exasperated. "I learnt it from this machine here."

Puck ran a hand through his 'hawk. Thankful that his sister and mother weren't home yet, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. She squealed as he did so, apparently believing that it was some sort of game. She tried to poke him in the ribs again but he evaded her, instead gripping her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him.

"Stop it. You have to talk to me. What's your name?"

The girl paused and furrowed her eyebrows as if she were in deep thought. "Rachel Green," she said decidedly.

He groaned. "I guess you've been watching _Friends, _then, huh?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning_. "How you doin'?"_

He tried not to scoff as her terrible Joey impersonation. "What's your _real _name?"

"Rachel!"

He stared at her. Finally realising that he wasn't going to get any more out of her, he exhaled deeply. "Okay_, Rachel_ it is… So, where do you live?"

She looked confused again. "I told you last night."

"The…_ ocean?_" He asked, recalling how she'd pointed at his surfing pictures. "Don't be stupid. You don't live in the ocean."

"Well," she said almost sadly, "I guess I don't have a… _home,_ then."

Puck, on some level, had guessed that this would happen. He wasn't going to desert this girl… this _Rachel. _If she had nowhere to stay, then he had promised himself that he wouldn't turn her away. "Yeah, you do," he told her, "You saved my life. This is your home."

She smiled brightly.

"Okay, uh… you gotta come with me, then. We have to get you some clothes."


End file.
